Thanksgiving nearly killed me.
Kids + breakables + elderly canines = me wanting to hide in a closet with a bottle of vodka. But, we managed to make it through the experience without divorcing or making a trip to the E.R., so I guess have no choice but to count it as a success.
As I stared out the dirty window of our van yesterday on the long drive home, I pondered two things. First, I have limits on how much stress I can handle and I think this trip might have pushed me a wee bit too far. I plan to pull back a little this week and focus on self-care so I can pace myself and avoid a crash and burn before Christmas.
Second … I no longer have a baby. I mean, duh. BUT YOU GUYS. I REALLY DON’T HAVE A BABY ANYMORE.
It’s okay, roll your eyes. I’ve been in denial about this even though all signs point to toddler. There’s no ignoring the fact that my “baby” will be 18 months old in a few days. It’s just going by so fast. The days are hard, and sometimes long, but that third kid really turned everything warp-speed. How is it almost Christmas again? Where did the past year go? Am I really soaking it up like I’m supposed to?
HOW CAN I SOAK IT UP PROPERLY WHEN IT FEELS LIKE SOMEONE PRESSED FAST-FORWARD ON MY LIFE?!
What really got me was when we took a harried family picture on Thanksgiving Day and I later realized that I was holding a child half my size like a sack of potatoes.
I have three walking, talking children. My baby times are over, lost into the blur. I’m thankful. And I’m sad. But mostly just disoriented.